


Her Little Man

by cacioepepe



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Little Women (1994), Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Batman References, F/M, Jo's Annoyed but Here for It, Laurie's Sass, Modern Era, Organized Crime, Sexy Times, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacioepepe/pseuds/cacioepepe
Summary: Because his heart always belonged to his childhood friend. Expect smut, Laurie's sass and Jo giving it right back to him. Little Women/slight Batman inspiration.Christian Bale inspired this, Saoirse Ronan persuaded me to finish it. Moved from the FF.net with some more mature updates. Might get gay, who knows.
Relationships: Theodore Laurence & Josephine March, Theodore Laurence/Josephine March
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

** Italics are directly from the proposal scene, don't own them. I don't own Jo, Laurie, any of those characters, except OC. **

Jo was lost to the world on a day like today. She swept through the leftover winter leaves, reveling in the sunshine, occasionally taking a moment to scribble a thought down before dashing off after a wayward rabbit. Jo considered this to be an endeavor deserving her full attention, so when she smashed into a random stranger, it wasn't that unusual. Just a quick apology and she'd be gone.

Except...

" _ Teddy! Oh, Teddy. Hail the conquering graduate _ !  _ Is his grandfather exceedingly proud?" _

Laurie beamed down at Jo from his great height.

" _ Yes, and extremely bent in locking me up in one of his offices. Why is it you can randomly scribble away, while I must manfully set my...interests aside?" _

" _ Why must you?" _

" _ I can't go against the old man. When I imagine myself...in that life...I can think of only one thing that would make me happy." _

Laurie's face glowed. Jo knew that look; most mistook it for boyish innocence. It was the look of a man who knew what he stood for, knew what he wanted. The look of a man who always got what he wanted.

" _ I have loved you, since the moment I laid eyes on you. What would be more reasonable than to marry you!" _

" _ We'd KILL each other! Neither one of us can control our tempers." _

" _ But I would!" _

Without waiting for a response Laurie pulled her flush against his chest, holding her face and ravishing her with a desperate kiss. Jo couldn't help herself. She gave in, tangling his soft locks in her hands and pulling him even tighter. Hearing Laurie's harsh panting, however, shocked her out of her stupor. She bent her head between her knees, taking deep breaths as she tried to gain composure. Before she could utter a word against him, he yanked her up and took her head in his hands.

" _ I'd take care of you, Jo. You would be given every luxury you were ever denied. You wouldn't have to write unless you wanted to." _

Getting desperate, Jo fumbled.

"Teddy, I'm not fashionable enough for you. You need someone elegant, refined...someone who bathes on the daily would be good, too."

Laurie smirked.

"Stupid Jo, you silly girl."

Jo smiled at Laurie sadly.

"Oh, Teddy. You know as well as I do that this would never work. Your parents would never have wanted..."

Anger flared in Laurie's eyes.

"Don't you dare use my parents as an excuse, Jo. You know well enough they loved you as much as I do."

"That may be. But oh Teddy, you don't love me. You love us, all of us! You said it yourself, all you wanted was to feel a part of something, to be in a family that felt warm."

"Jo. Ever since I went away to college...so, so much has changed. I realize that I already have a place within your family. All I need now is a place with you."

"Teddy, no. You know I can't. I can't..."

Laurie looked all over Jo's face, searching for a flicker of acceptance. Seeing none, his face turned cold, muttering something intelligible. Without another word, he pulled his coat around him and stalked off, leaving Jo to collapse onto the nearest bench, sobs wracking her body as she attempted to calm herself.

_ Teddy... _

_ Shit. Jo. No. Don't you dare. _

Leaving her sketchbook, she stood and walked frantically in the direction Laurie had gone in. From a distance, she could see him stalking up to his grandfather's car, the old man in the passenger seat with the window rolled down. Laurie nodded briskly at him, turned on his heel, and walked away, leaving his grandfather behind.

Two seconds later a shot rang out.

Before Jo could make a sound, the old man was slumped against the door, his blood trickling down to pool along the pavement. She saw Laurie turn around, and rush toward his grandfather, tearing open the door in his urgency. A few more moments passed, and Laurie's sudden cry of grief confirmed her fear, the old man was dead, leaving Laurie trembling like a scared, small child. Unlike their childhood, when little servant Jo had gathered Laurie up in her arms to cry, Laurie was all alone, screaming at the sky. Jo began to run toward him, but before she could take ten steps Laurie stood, pulled a gun out of his breast-pocket, and pointed it in the direction of the man who had murdered his only living family.

Jo knew that after killing that man, the sweet boy she had played with as a child would be lost forever, turned into a killer in his grief. She couldn't let that happen. She had one chance.

"TEDDY!"

Jo woke in a cold sweat, shaking from the horrible nightmare. In the past month it had visited her night after night, and every morning she would wake in tears, replaying that horrible day nine years ago when she had lost her best friend forever. Before Jo had been able to reach him Laurie vanished, lost to the world.

Nine years. Nine whole years. He could be dead by now, or worse. He could be homeless, freezing, starving, ten feet underground. The hole that had formed in her heart when he vanished grew larger by the day, and Jo sometimes wondered when her heart would finally just give up in total despair.

But until that day happened, there was always her work to turn to.

To her family, she was Jo: obstinate, hungry, a writer by trade and by necessity. To the world, she was Josephine March: a former starving artist and current semi-successful culture critic. After suffering through a quick fling with tabloid reporting, Jo worked her way up to a job that not only allowed her to do something tolerable but also paid for something more than a weak cup of tea.

Not that she had any time for tea.

Unfortunately, her (now former) employer was about to go bankrupt. With crime levels sky-rocketing to unheard-of heights, people had stopped looking for deep literary meaning and had started looking for a fanciful escape. With circulation numbers at an all-time low, Jo returned to the newspaper grind, in search of a job which, hopefully, did  _ not  _ involve asking celebrities what brand of shoes they were wearing.

Three minutes later, after a hurried brushing of teeth and a flurry of clothing, Jo was sitting in the office of a back-alley newspaper known for revealing political scandals and covering stories most papers would not take.

_ Would it have killed them to have snacks? _

"Ms. March?"

"Oh! Sorry, yes, yes. You were saying?"

"Only inquiring on what stories you think you could bring to this paper."

"Well... um...well, I've been writing freelance for the last few years. I have a strong work ethic. The long hours mean nothing to me, and I always, always do what I can to best uncover the truth."

The editor adjusted his glasses and glanced again at her resume.

"Worked for the Laurence's, hmm? That family, huge fortune if I recall?"

"Yes, sir. My mother was their housekeeper, and I worked a bit as their maid when I was old enough."

"Hmm...would you know of the son then? Theodore Laurence?"

Jo gulped.

"Yes."

"Were you at all acquainted with the boy?"

Jo winced.

"Barely. May I ask why it matters, though? He's been missing for what, nine years or so? Presumed dead is what is generally assumed."

The old man cracked a grin.

"Haven't you heard? The young man's back, and quite the scoundrel too, if the stories are true then."

Jo froze.

"He's WHAT?"

"Yes, he's been back for about a week, but already the rumors are pouring in. Parties, trips, drunken fistfights, all that sort of thing. You did say you know him, correct?"

Jo managed to bite out a quick, "Yes."

_ That jerk! Back at last, and he couldn't find the time to tell me. _

"Lovely. Well, here's a job for you. What are the odds you can get us an interview with the man himself?"

At this point, Jo lost it.

"BLAST IT ALL...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just, is it possible I could start with, I don't know, tailing a mobster? Spend some time in the city's asylums? Getting first-hand accounts of serial killers? I will do it, do it all, anything at all, other than this!"

The man quickly frowned. "Reader's want to be spoon-fed. Who are we to deny them? And why not? I'd assume you'd want a glimpse of the man you used to work for."

Jo, at this point, was ready to pass out. But she needed this job. With Marmee ill...yes, she did need this.

The man extended his hand, ready to seal the deal.

Jo shook.


	2. Glove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Reviews give life as we near the end of this...truly terrible year. Hope everyone is safe and as well as you can be!

_Gloves. Always the gloves._

Jo March considered herself an intelligent, if somewhat foolhardy, young lady. Years of philosophical conversations and tripping over her feet had proved to her that despite an above-average IQ, she, more often than not, was bound to fall on her face.

And exercise her fat mouth.

Tonight, for instance. In a severe case of deja vu, Jo had spilled one of her multiple cups of coffee on her favorite pair of gloves. In the flurry to try to clean the stain, Jo managed to knock the whole pot of coffee onto her only half-decent dress. One hurried call to Amy and Jo attacked the dress with a passion, snipping away a cutout design which, according to her sister, was the new THING in Paris. The result was not to her taste. When she slipped the dress onto her crooked frame, it bared her lower back for all to see.

_Maybe if I wear a sweater no one will notice?_

Jo flew around the room, gathered her purse, took down her hair. A glance in the mirror showed a striking resemblance to a young horse. Sighing softly, Jo ran to the door, jabbed her key in, and...

It broke off. Again. 

_Fire escape._

Prying her single window open, Jo kicked off her shoes and clambered onto the tiny platform. Three Hail Mary's later and Jo scurried down the ladder, getting scraped and bumped along the way, hairpins falling in her face.

One last jump to safety and Jo found herself staring face-first into the barrel of a gun.

"Hands up, face to the ground."

Stifling her groan, Jo slowly lowered herself to the ground, peeking out from the side of her eyes to try to catch a glimpse of her attacker. The man seemed thin and weak, but he held a pistol and seemed to be drunk. Drunk was dangerous.

Fumbling around, the man shoved his foot on top of her back.

"Give me your money."

"Fat chance, jerk."

The man paused, seeming shocked that she would dare to challenge his authority.

"Excuse me?"

"Have you seen the economy? Everything is shit. I'm more scared of my landlady than of you."

"Shut up bitch."

"That was a mistake."

The lights went dim.

_What the?_

Behind her, Jo could hear the sounds of a violent struggle. Springing to her feet, she turned around to find her attacker sprinting off into the distance, leaving behind a man in a mask. He took a sudden step towards her, grabbing her hand in his calloused grip.

_Who does he think he is?! Fucking savior complex._

_"Get. off."_ She shoved his hand away and held her bag in front like a shield.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I had it covered, you know."

The masked man chuckled.

"Oh yes, by the way, you were being pinned to the ground. It was clear that you were OK." Jo sighed.

"Don't need any sass from you, mister. Now, will you let me go? I have a prior engagement."

With a huff, she walked away, before switching course and stomping off in the right direction. Squaring her shoulders, she stalked back down the alley, much to the amusement of her would-be savior, if his chuckle was any indicator. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was gone.

 _Weird_.

"If you're still here," Jo called out. "I'm sorry I was rude. My stubbornness is chronic. Genuinely though, thank you. Whoever you are." Silence. 

As much as Jo wanted to crawl into her bed with a beer, the annoying rational part of her knew that she was already half an hour late to the stupid fundraiser. The party was something the old Teddy would have scorned, but apparently, this new Laurie had a taste for suck-ups and blonde bimbos.

With a tired sigh, Jo walked to the main road and hailed a taxi. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Excuse me, excuse me...Get out of my way, will you?"

"Pardon?"

Hurriedly, Jo craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the buffoon who had stepped on her foot, but all she saw was one grumpy old lady, who, by the look of the rock on her neck, could have easily purchased the hotel. Jo backed up with a quick apology and took her place in the line of reporters. She joined the standard shove-your-notepad-in-the-millionaire's face routine, hoping that one of the partygoers might take a moment away from their blini munching to give them a quick scoop.

It was tiring. It was demeaning. And if Jo wanted to cover real news again, it was necessary. Standing half-heartedly in a mass of press passes while the former kids-turned-socialites who had often frequented the Laurence manor paraded past. Those parties had been bearable only because she could laugh with Laurie at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

But now he was one of them.

Jo was shoved abruptly awake by a full-on stampede. She was about to bring out the elbows when whispers began to circulate through the crowd.

" _Look at how dashing he is..."_

" _T_ _hat's a billionaire for you, pompous yet tasteful all in one, the bastard."_

" _I heard he was in rehab? Druggie piece of shit."_

That got Jo's attention. She was just about to punch the jerk in the face when the crowd parted.

And there he was.

Godly, smirking, handsome Laurie. Parting the waters of the crowd, strolling through the hotel as if he owned it (he did). He had perfected the art of looking both ambivalent and mesmerizing.

Jo sensed something else. His eyes didn't match his face, his back was stiff, and his smile was more of a smirk.

He looked fake, unreal. And on guard.

Jo wanted so badly to go to him. But she didn't. She stood back like all the other reporters, took notes, and kept her head down, causing her to miss the small spark that lit Laurie's eyes when his gaze flickered in her direction.


	3. Champagne Dreams

_ Oh, Teddy. Look what's become of you. Marmee would be so disappointed. _

Jo hadn't arrived at the party with great expectations of what was to come. True to the stereotype of the quote-on-quote "high society" fundraisers, the affair was stuffy, tacky, and...what was the word she wanted? 

Pretentious.

It was so very much the opposite of Laurie that Jo wanted to storm up to him, slap him hard across the face, smash the ice sculptures, chug some of the 100 dollars-a-glass champagne and storm out with her dignity.

The part of Jo that wasn't bristling with annoyance reminded her that if she lived out that fantasy, she would lose her job. Momentarily bliss wasn't worth spending the next five years eating watered-down soup. The thought of being subjected to chicken broth for the rest of her career allowed her to calm herself just enough to slump down and keep writing.

Just as Jo was about to lose the last of her dignity and ask what brand of shoes the mayor's wife was wearing, a sudden burst of chatter saved her.  _ Ten guesses who that is. _

Jo had barely given herself time to think about what their reunion would entail. In her fantasy, Laurie would spot her through the crowd. He would run right up to her, damn propriety, and pull her into a sorely-missed hug.

_ Perhaps a kiss?  _

Deep down, though, Jo had always known that that's all it was: a fantasy. 

Eyes tracking him around the room, Jo drank his face up greedily. Still handsome as ever, but there was a sharpness there, replacing the boyish softness of his youth. Jo had known him too well and too long not to notice that every laugh was fake, every smile was forced, every casual glance deliberate and calculating.

Jo wasn't sure what she had expected...but this wasn't it. Every moment she looked at him brought another wrench of regret. 

_ Screw the interview. Screw this party _ . _ I can't do this anymore. _

Tugging her coat high up to her chin, Jo carefully made her way through the crowd. Just as she was within spitting distance of the door, a certain man stepped in front of her. 

Jo stared at her shoes. There was no way she could face him like this.

"Good evening, Ms. March."

A faint flush flared across Jo's cheek.

_ Ms. March! Not Jo, not even Josephine. _

"Hello, Master Laurence. It's been a long time." Disdain was practically dripping from Jo's mouth. Laurie's mouth flashed through a frown at the title. Even at her most spiteful, Jo had never called him that before. 

"Yes. It has."

Jo cranked up her grin to megawatt. The effort was excruciating. 

"You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Laurie's raised an eyebrow.

"Now, I am."

_ Jerk. _

"Well, that makes one of us. Now, if you don't mind, there's nothing else to keep me here." Shaking her curls, she stomped away, shoving past dignitaries and fellow reporters and almost tripping a waiter holding a tray laden with champagne.

_ Don't mind if I do. _

Grabbing two flutes, Jo continued her warpath towards the door, chugging as she went. She had almost reached the door when a hand roughly grasped her arm and yanked her through a tapestry. She was just about to toss the drink in her attacker's face when she found herself inches away from the man who had sneered at her only minutes before.

Laurie placed his hands forcefully around Jo's waist, pulling her hard against him so that the space between them vanished. Leaning in, his ragged breath danced across Jo's cheek.

"Jo, you petulant woman. There is so, so much, that you don't understand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reunion! Albeit not the one Jo was expecting. Comments are sustenance in these uncertain times.


	4. Sapling

Jo took a breath.  
  
"Teddy. What exactly do you have pressed against my leg?"  
  
Laurie Laurence had always been a bit of a flirt, but he had enough decency enough to take a step back and awkwardly ruffle his hair. Jo attempted to hold back a stifled laugh. Laurie turned to her with a glare.

"Josephine March. If you had any idea how many young women have begged to have me to have their way with them, your smidge of a brain might well explode."

A loud crack sounded through the closet as Jo's hand connected with Laurie's face. A handprint-shaped mark began to form on Laurie's face. The absurdity of the situation became too much for Jo to bear. Chuckles rolled out of her uncontrollably. She always started laughing uncontrollably at the worst possible times.   
  
Laurie's eyes narrowed briefly, and for the first time that night, Jo flinched. There was a violent side of Laurie, one she hadn't forgotten. The handprint faded, and with it came a laugh from him as well. The sound was golden, a reminder of her old Teddy with whom she had laughed alongside long ago in a closet just like this one.  
  
"Goodness Laurie, when did you start judging companions on the size of their chests?"  
  
"Around the same time that a certain March girl left me in the dust." Laurie bit back. "It's truly amazing what money can do for one's social life."  
Jo frowned.  
  
"The Laurie I knew would have spent the money on cool gadgets instead of cheap sex."  
  
"Who said anything about cheap?"  
  
She frowned and pushed him to the floor. The spontaneity of it all managed to keep him there.  
  
"As expected, I can still take you down."  
  
"You had surprise on your side, Jo. Better keep your wits about you, or you may be caught by me when you least expect it."  
  
"Do I detect a challenge, Monsieur Laurence?"  
  
"You do, Miss March. You'll find we billionaires hate to lose..."  
  
"Even to a silly girl?"  
  
Without warning, Laurie reached up and tugged her down with him to the floor.  
  
"Especially to silly girls."  
  
Jo immediately flipped him on her side. In her attempt to win their scuffle, she found herself astride him, skirts spilling over his waistcoat. As if a cloud had parted for the sun, they paused. Jo was painfully conscious of how red her cheeks grew every time Laurie shifted beneath her. For a moment, they were silent.   
  
Laurie looked at her long and hard.  
  
"Something you want to say, Jo?"  
  
"Nothing interesting comes to mind."  
  
At that, Laurie reared up to meet her so that she was straddling his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in as he mumbled against her neck.  
  
"You remember this, don't you? You remember being curled up together by the fire, head in a book, burrowing into my lap like a sapling searching for spring."

"I remember the books very well. The circumstances of their consumption, not so much."  
  
Laurie pulled away to look her in the eyes. "You let me touch you that night, Jo. You let me touch you, and, worst of all, you touched me back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time? Too soon? I defer to y'all. Hope everyone had a nice holiday, all things considered!


End file.
